Not Every Story Has A Happy Ending
by Foamy
Summary: William Stryker sent out to find the perfect teams of mutants. He not only found it, but he definitely got more than he bargained for when he recruited Andrew Darkholme. Please R
1. Prologue

**AN: **Here is a prologue I wrote for a story I've been thinking of writing. I want to know if you like where it's going. I've based it off of my own little world of X-Men where Rogue is Mystique's real daughter, and that she has another child as well. It will not be in first person, but I thought for dramatic effect, that this would work. Please review and tell me what you guys think.

**Disclaimer:** I only own Andrew, and Liz. Anything else belongs to Marvel.

***PROLOGUE***

I never really gave a thought to what life would be like for someone like me. If I knew it was going to end like this I probably would have shot myself in my room that fateful day, as I had planned hours before hand. Funny how fate works out huh? Mind you if I had, my life would have been as meaningless as the life of an insect, fragile and fleeting.

My name is Andrew Darkholme and I was handed a shit hand at the hilarious game called life. I'm a mutant. That just means that I have an X-gene that gives me super human abilities. You think people would find that pretty boss, but people fear and hate my kind because we are dangerous. A menace. I whole heartedly agree with that sentiment, we are a menace. Well, ones like me anyway, who make the wrong decisions and think that what they are doing will better the world, when all they are doing is destroying what other people are working so hard for. If I had known that all this shit would blow up in my face I would have never joined up with Team X. My judgement was clouded that day, however I will not try to justify my past indiscretions with that petty excuse.

They called me Destructor, because that's what I did, destroy things, people, even myself in the end. When I was around fifteen, my mutant powers manifested, and that's when all the shit hit the fan. Two years later, three men show up at my door. Just when I was about to blow my brains out. I was seriously depressed. The man in front told me that it was such a waste of life. He told me that his name was Colonel William Stryker, he as a operative of the Canadian government, and that he could help me. I don't know why, but I went with him. That was one of the biggest mistakes of my life. The events that followed that fateful day in my small home in North Bay, Ontario, were some of the best of my short lifetime. Those I do not regret.

However, my job here is to tell you how my life went before I found myself in this cryogenic tank. Simple, life fucking sucks. Seriously though, we should start from the beginning.... Before all of this....

**AN:** Please review, your input mean a lot to me. Your reviews will either make or break this story.


	2. The Beginning

AN: I decided that with some input from friends and a very helpful review that this story will continue to live. I hope it will gather a larger audience, as well as my other X-Men story Take Away My Skin. I hope you Enjoy.

Disclaimer: I only own Andrew and Liz; all other characters belong to Marvel.

Not Every Story Has a Happy Ending

Chapter 1 The Beginning

**October 15, 1976 - North Bay, Ontario, Canada. **

It was a cold autumn day in the small town of North Bay, Ontario. They wind blew through the streets causing the already chilly air to become even more chilly. The small almost non-existent town was mainly consisted of a military base, and some military housing just a couple hour drive north of Toronto. They had one main street where most of the shops, fast food places, and well anything were located. Many small roads branched off of it. It was a fairly quiet place to live. This is where Andrew Darkholme lived with his parents Janet and Lars Darkholme.

Andrew's father was a German man who had come to Canada as a young boy with his family, to seek refuge after WWII. Once he was old enough, he enlisted in the Canadian armed forces. His father had been in the military, and he had pictured nothing else for himself. His mother was an American who had been visiting relatives in Canada when she had met his father. They soon fell in love. It wasn't long before she moved up to Canada to live start a new life with his father. Not even a year later the two were married and Andrew was born.

It had been quite the normal boring day for fifteen year old Andrew, typical school, friends, people in general. He sighed walking down the cracked side walk on his way home from school. The one thing the teen hated about life in North Bay was that nothing exciting ever happened. Well, people moving in or moving out was somewhat interesting, but that happened so often no one really even noticed any more. Other than that, they had the odd death, but never anything truly exciting. Yes, life in the small military town was indeed boring as hell.

Andrew himself was nothing special, or so he thought. He was fairly scrawny, about six foot four with dark raven coloured hair that always hung loosely in front of his eyes. The most unusual feature about the boy was the defining white bangs that he had been blessed with since he was old enough to walk. If you could get past the hair to see those eyes, they were the brightest shade of emerald green. He didn't really have many friends at school. He was a bit of a loner, and social outcast. Not that he was complaining Andrew enjoyed the solitude. The teen sighed and zipped his coat up a little more. He kicked at loose rocks as he shuffled his way towards his home. It was only going to get colder.

"Hey, Darkholme!" A voice called from some feet behind him.

Andrew turned to face the direction in which the voice had originated. His eyes fell upon two of his classmates, Karla Jenkins and her hockey superstar boyfriend, Wilbur Wilson. He sighed, just what he needed more pointless conversation. "Yeah? He asked lolling his head to the side and stopping his stride. 'Might as well hear them out, it just might be interesting' he thought to himself.

AI have a question for you?" Wilbur said as the older boy caught up to him, Karla close on his heels.

"And that would be?" He questioned crossing his arms over his chest.

Wilbur smirked and ran a hand through his windblown hair. "Well, I was wondering if you'd be willing to do my English homework for me. I would pay you of course, it's just that I need at least a B to be able to play in Saturdays' game," Wilbur stated trailing off slightly.

"And why would I want to do that?" Andrew retorted shivering as a cold gust of wind washed over the three teens.

"Because if you do, I'll go out with you for a week, and promise that we'll no longer make fun of you," Karla spoke up a mischievously seductive smirk crawling across her features.

Andrew scoffed, he had never found Karla attractive. He actually found her quite nauseating. She was nothing but a giggly vapid slut, like most of the popular girls a his school, "Not interested Karla."

"Oh come on Darkholme. You're the best student in that class, who else would I ask to do my homework for me?" He said like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Andrew snorted uncrossing him arms, and slipping his hands inside the pockets of his coat, "Thanks but no thanks Wilbur, I don't help low lives like you cheat your way through life," He replied turning around and walking forward, heading home once again.

"Hey," Wilbur called grabbing Andrew's arm and pulling him back. "Do you think that you're better than me Darkholme?" He asked anger evident in the hockey player's voice.

Andrew shrugged his hand off of his arm, "That's exactly what I am saying Wilson. There is nothing for me to gain from this, and besides, why would I help you? You've treated me like scum for the last four years. Thanks, but no thanks." He said turning to leave once more.

"You're so selfish Andrew," Karla spat throwing her long brown hair over her shoulder.

He turned around and glared at the brunette. "I'm selfish? I'm not the one cheating to be on the hockey team, or whoring myself to the highest bidder for popularity. Have some respect for yourselves, and maybe someone will respect you for who you really are," He retorted his eyes narrowing at the two. He didn't blow up on people often. Actually, he rarely did 'cause he was a loner and hung out with no one. He inherited his short temper from his father.

Karla made an almost inaudible sound and looked down at her feet in shame. What he had said, had definitely hit a nerve with the girl. Wilbur's face was beat red from the anger that was now boiling within his veins. "You can say anything you like about me, but do not speak about my Karla like that jackass," He growled taking a step forward trying to intimidate the younger boy by hid brute strength.

Andrew shrugged, "You don't scare me Wilson."

Wilbur grabbed him by his coat and lifted him a couple inches off of the ground. "I would reconsider what you've just declined. If you don't, I may be forced to beat your head in for what you just said about my girl." The jock hissed.

Andrew chuckled, "Bring it on then, because I am not changing my mind."

It happened in an instant. Wilbur drew his fist back, and Andrew found himself on the ground. He barely had time to stand before Wilbur caught him around his middle and took him back down to the ground. Wilbur landed another punch to Andrew's face, breaking the younger boy's nose, causing a large amount of blood to flow out of his nostrils. Andrew's hand shot up to cover his nose in a feeble attempt to stop the bleeding. Wilbur wasn't going to let up. He stood and kicked his classmate in the ribs. Andrew cried out in pain, and rolled onto his other side holding his now injured ribs.

"You're pathetic Darkholme," Wilbur yelled delivering another swift kick, this time to the young man's back.

Andrew hissed in pain, recoiling from the other boy. He attempted to stand, but was knocked back to the ground by another punch from his adversary. He managed get up, and tried to to regain his balance quickly, and just sway on his feet from the force of the punch. Andrew removed his hand from his nose, and reeled his own fist back. He barely dodged another one of Wilbur's punches before slamming his own into the older boy's jaw. There was a metal clang and a swift crack. Wilbur cried out in pain as he held his jaw. Andrew looked down at his hands in disbelief. That was not a normal sound.

Ignoring the strange occurrence, Wilbur roared with rage and charged at him once more. He jaw was off kilter, and the jock was obviously in a lot of pain, but that did not stop his onslaught. Andrew threw his hands out and managed to grab a hold of Wilbur's head. He punched it again and watched as the older boy fell to the ground, holding his head in pain. Andrew was astonished. He stared down at his hands, unsure what to make of all this, it was the weirdest thing that had ever happened to the fifteen year old boy. He had no idea how much time had passed by, but he was sure that it was not long. Wilbur tackled him once more, and he felt his skull crack against the pavement. He hissed in pain as Wilbur began to wail on him. Punches rained down on Andrew's form, which was now curled up on the ground.

"You like that?" He screamed, his voice slurred because of his seemingly broken jaw. Wilbur stood up and kicked the downed boy in the back over and over again.

"Stop," Andrew breathed in an almost inaudible voice.

"What was that loser?" Wilbur questioned relenting on his kicking in order to hear what Andrew had to say for himself.

"Stop," He repeated a bit louder this time.

Wilbur laughed and continued his assault enjoying the feeling of power that rushed through his veins. "Not on your life Darkholme, you asked for it.

Andrew shut his eyes tightly trying to block out the pain. He bit his bottom lip to hold back the cries of pain. He was not going to give Wilbur the pleasure of knowing how much damage he was doing. Suddenly, Andrew felt this immense build up of pressure behind his eyes. It was the most blinding pain that he had ever felt in his life. He could feel his body start to shake by the force of the pain. It was ten times worse than one of his migraines that had been plaguing him the last few weeks. He couldn't hold back any more. He opened his mouth and screamed as white flashed across his vision. He heard another scream, one that was not his own. It seemed so far away, that he barely registered it as being Karla's. Soon his vision settled, and the blinding pain in his head seemed to dissipate. His eyes fell on the site before him. Karla knelt next to Wilbur who lay unconscious about ten feet away from him. The older boy appeared to be unconscious. Andrew shook his head in disbelief, he had no idea what had happened.

Karla's gaze fell on Andrew, fear evident on her pale face. "What are you?"She asked quietly. She slowly rose to her feet and pointed her finger accusingly at him, "What did you do to him?" She screamed.

Andrew shook his head, "I don't know, what happened?"

She scoffed, "You know, you just did it!" She screamed. Andrew shook his head as she said this. She chuckled, "Fine. I'll play your game Andrew. Wilbur was kicking you, and all of a sudden you screamed and you were on your feet. Your eyes were completely white, iris' and all and then the wind picked up, the earth shook and you put your filthy hands on my Wilbur shoving him backwards. He flew ten feet into the air and bashed his head on the side walk," She concluded.

Andrew shook his head, "No, I couldn't have, that - that's impossible."

"But you did it, "She accused walking towards him. "You're a freak."

Andrew shook his head, "It's not possible, I-I-I couldn't..." He continued backing away from her.

"Freak!," She screamed her dark eyes narrowing at him.

Andrew turned and ran down the side walk towards his house. He didn't dare slow down, or turn to see if Karla followed. He doubted it. He was scared. Other than Karla's recap, he had no idea how or why that strange occurrence had happened. It only took him a couple of minutes to reach his house. He quickly shoved his keys in the lock and slammed the door behind him. He leaned back against it sliding to the floor. He pulled his knees to his chest and rocked back and forth on the wooden floor. His breathing was deep as he raised his shaking hands into his view.

"What am I?"

* * *

Janet Darkholme hummed quietly to herself as she prepared dinner for her husband's return home. The house was eerily quiet. She had not seen her son since he had left for school earlier that morning. She knew for a fact that the fifteen year old was indeed home, since his shoes were present by the front door, and his coat was haphazardly sitting on the small bench by the front door. She sighed looking at the clock once more. It was almost five pm. Her husband Lars would be home soon, and then she would have no choice but to ultimately retrieve her son from the confines of his bedroom. She let out another worried sigh as she placed a pot of boiling water on the stove. Suddenly, she heard a loud crash followed by an extremely loud bang coming from upstairs. She threw down the tea towel she held in her delicate hands, and sprinted to the stairs. The sounds caused alarm bells to ring inside her head. Something was not right. She ran up the steps and stopped once she reached the upstairs hall.

Her son's bedroom door was shut, but she could see the light shining out from underneath. She quietly walked to the door and gently rapped on the wooden surface with her small knuckles. "Andrew, are you alright?" She asked growing concerned. No one answered. This was extremely unusual behaviour for the fifteen year old. After a few moments of silence, Janet knocked again. "Andrew, answer me. You're starting to scare me," She replied growing even more concerned as the seconds of silence ticked by. He did not answer a second time. "Andrew Neil Darkhlome!" She called turning the doorknob. She was surprised to find it locked. Her thoughts became more frantic. "Open this door right now." She commanded, her voice nearly breaking.

"Go away!" His voice roared through the tightly shut door. Janet stopped her movements. Andrew never raised his voice to her. "Just, leave me alone Mom, I'm fine," He concluded softly knowing that he had frightened her.

Janet could hear the sadness, and the guilt in the teen's voice. What the emotions were for she was unsure, but she heard them as clear as day. Her heart ached as he seemed to be pushing her away. "Dinner will be ready soon. You should come down and eat," She stated her motherly instincts kicking in once again.

She heard him sigh heavily. "Call me when it's ready, and I might," He responded blandly.

"Alright," She replied sighing in defeat.

She wandered back down the curved steps and back down to the kitchen to resume her cooking duties. Not even five minutes into her dinner preparations, she heard a vehicle pull into the driveway. She sighed again as she dumped the chopped up carrots into the boiling pot. It was not long after that when she heard he front door open, and then slam shut seconds later. This sound was followed by the familiar sound of her husbands heavy footsteps in the entryway of their small home. She heard the loud thud of his boots falling onto the tiled floor, probably making a mess for her to clean up later. She smiled with fondness.

"Janet," He called as he entered their small kitchen, a smile on his face.

She smiled back, "Hello sweetheart," She replied walking over and giving him a small peck on the lips. "How was work?"

"Same as always," He grunted as he sat down at the table. He leaned back and looked into the living room from his seat. "Where is Andrew?" He asked noticing his son's absence.

Janet sighed stirring the contents of the stock pot on the stove. "He has locked himself inside his bedroom and refuses to come out. He said the he'd come out for dinner, but I don't believe him."

Lars ran his large hand through his dark locks, "What's the matter with that boy lately?"

She shrugged her petite shoulders, "I don't know. He usually helps me with dinner, or does his homework in the living room before you get home. He's rarely in his room. It worries me," She confessed letting go of the wooden spoon in her hand leaving it sitting in the boiling pot.

"It's probably just a phase. He's a teenage boy Janet, don't let it worry you."

She sighed again, "You're probably right."

The couple remained silent for a few minutes as Janet quietly resumed preparing the family meal. Another loud bang, followed by a crash and a thud rang out through the entire house. A pop soon followed. The sounds caused the couple to jump in surprise. Lars looked to Janet who just shrugged at his curious glance. He slowly rose to his feet, and slowly headed to the stairway. Janet trailed not to far behind him. Feeling a tad less frantic in the presence of her husband. Moments later, the couple stood outside their only son's bedroom, which was the origin of the strange sounds that had shook the house moments before. They looked at each other before Lars raised his hand, and knocked on the door. The ground below them started to shake, creating a mild earthquake, but the couple paid it no attention.

"Andrew, is everything al right in there?" He called through the wooden door.

"Leave me alone Dad," the teen responded. Another loud crash almost immediately follow his response. Andrew cursed loudly, the sound of glass shattering echoed throughout the hall.

Lars eyes narrowed, and he banged on the door again, a lot harder than he had previously. "Andrew, I don't know what is going on, but open this damn door," He roared tugging on the doorknob attempting to open it.

"Go away!" Andrew yelled, the door not budging.

"That is it!" Lars snapped as he braced himself against the door. "When I was growing up I never had a lock on my door," He said to Janet taking a couple steps backwards. "And now I know why," He concluded as he rammed his entire body into the broad surface of the door. It groaned at the force of his weight. Lars was not a scrawny man by any means, he was rather muscular, and very strong from his years of training. He repeated this action a few more times until the door finally gave in and flew open, slamming loudly into the wall behind it.

His dark eyes fell upon his son, who sat on his bed with the room around him in complete disarray. There were torn up bits of paper scattered everywhere, ashes littering the floor where some had been burnt. The mirror on the east wall was shattered, and the shards of glass littered the desk beneath it. The lamp that had once rested on top of his night stand was broken on the floor. The light bulb inside appeared to have burst. One of the wooden bedposts was severely charred and looked as if it would disintegrate at any second. Bits of the carpet had also been severely burnt. Records lay scattered across the floor, some of them had melted, others broken, and some remarkably were still intact. Lars looked at his son shocked at the disheveled appearance of the normally spotless bedroom.

"What happened in here?" He asked calmly.

Andrew looked away from him," Go away Dad," He said sullenly, refusing to meet his father's penetrating gaze.

"Andrew," He began in that semi angry parental warning tone.

"There is something seriously wrong with me," He stated finally looking up to meet his father's brown eyes.

Lars and Janet both gasped. Lars stumbled backwards a couple steps with the shock. Andrew's normally emerald eyes were white. There was absolutely no trace of colour anywhere. Andrew moved to reach out to his parents, but quickly pulled his hand back, unsure and quite scared of what would happen. Since the fight with Wilbur, nothing was making any sense.

"Andrew, what are you?" Janet asked, her voice was barely above a whisper.

He looked at them pleadingly, "Please?" He asked as the window behind him crashed open. A strong wind blew inside the room 'causing the bits of paper and ashes on the floor to fly around. "I can't control it," He ground out. His teeth were tightly clenched together, grinding painfully.

"Can't control what?" Lars asked curiously as he took a step closer in awe of the whole situation.

"No!" Andrew shouted. The wind grew stronger, and the light on the ceiling shattered. The force of the wind pushed Lars backwards so the he was pressed against the wall. "Stay back, stay away from me!"

Janet stood there shocked gazing at her son in confusion. She had never seen anything like this before. "What are you?" She asked again, way louder than she had originally.

"I don't know!" He yelled in response causing the door to bang loudly against the wall behind it. "So, just leave me alone!" He cried looking down, his eyes resting on the floor. Suddenly, he groaned and gripped his hair tightly in his hand pulling enough that it would be extremely painfully. "I can't take it! My head feels like it's splitting in half!"

"Andrew," Janet called softly, gripping the door frame tightly pulling herself into his bedroom. It was extremely difficult fighting against the intense winds.

"No!" He cried lifting his hand. She felt herself being pushed back further. "Don't come any closer!"

Her eyes fell upon his outstretched hand. It appeared as it little bolts of electricity were travelling between his fingers . Andrew's eyes followed his mother's and quickly pulled it back, stuffing the offending hand into the pocket of his sweater.

"Andrew please?" His mother begged attempting to pull herself back into his bedroom.

"No, I don't want to hurt you," He yelled closing his eyes tightly trying to somehow alleviate the building pressure inside of his pounding skull.

"Andrew, listen to your mother," His father spoke up, finally overcoming the initial shock of the situation, and was now focusing on the severity of the situation. "You don't have to do this alone son. We can help you. You can find a way to control it," He said recalling his experience in the military and the few young men had randomly developed powers just like his son.

"I don't know how!" He roared slamming his fist into the wall. It went straight through. He cringed as he pulled his hand out of the wall. He watched intensely as the tiny cuts on his knuckles very slowly began to heal. He growled again, punching the wall once more. Repeating the same pattern. He growled at the third time, "I don't understand why this is happening!"

"Calm down sweety, we're just trying to help you," Janet called desperately.

His white eyes narrowed at her, flashing back to their regular green, but only for a second. His father was almost to the bed, his movements going unnoticed by the teen's sudden outbursts. He glared at his parents as the wind grew even stronger in the small bedroom. "Get out," He hissed through clenched teeth feeling the pain in his head intensify.

"No," His father said firmly, planting his firmly onto the floor, preparing himself for the onslaught of wind.

"I said get out!" He screamed at the two. The wind assaulted his father, but he refused to budge.

Andrew growled again as he felt the pain in his head about to explode. He screamed and threw his hands out in an effort to remove his parents from his bedroom. Water flew forward from his body, pushing both his mother and his father out of the chaos of the small room. As soon as they were able, they ran to the door, only to have it slammed in their faced before they could reach it.

Lars gripped the knob, but it would not budge. "Andrew!" He yelled slamming his large fist into the door.

Suddenly, he howled in pain, clutching his hand tightly. His eyes turned to the doorknob. It was bright red, and extremely hot. He cursed and was about to kick the door down, when he heard his wife sob. He turned to face her. Tears ran down her pale cheeks, slipping down her delicate skin. He sighed dejectedly and wrapped his arms around her quivering form, pulling her to him. She melted into his warm and comforting embrace, pressing herself tightly to his much larger body. Lars gently stroked her long brown locks.

"Everything will be alright Janet," He said kissing the top of her head, "He will be fine, and we will get through this, you'll see. Everything will be fine."

AN: Ok, so this was a very short chapter. I get to the real story in the next chapter. I was going to end it after the fight with Wilbur, but I thought his parents deserved a scene, so I hope you liked this chapter. Also, his powers will be fully explained next chapter..kind of. A few things I saved to be explained in later chapter, so fear not! All will be revealed in due time. Please review, your input means a lot to me.


	3. The Birth of the Destructor

AN: Another chapter yay! This is where the actual story starts.

Disclaimer: I only own Andrew and Liz; all other characters belong to Marvel.

Not Every Story Has a Happy Ending

Chapter 2 The Birth of the Destructor

**August 11****th****, 1978 - North Bay, Ontario, Canada.**

Four men exited the armored car that had pulled up in front of the small house in the military town that was named North Bay, Ontario. One wore a dark green military suite, with a name plate that read 'Colonel,' and the others appeared to be wearing some sort of battle costume. The man in the suite had dark brown hair, and dark eyes. He stood tall, his hands seemingly glued to his sides. The man to his right wore an orange mask over his face, his reddish blonde hair sticking up in all directions. He wore a blue armored costume with guns in holsters at his hips. The name 'Maverick' was etched on a small patch on the left breast of the battle costume. The man on his left wore just some cargo pants and a black t-shirt underneath a brown trench coat. His hair was cut short and was a sandy blonde colour. His name tag read 'Sabertooth'. There was something inhuman about this man. His teeth were sharp, and his fingernails were more like claws than nails. The last man had black hair that stuck up at the sides. He had long sideburns and a cigar resting behind his left ear. He wore some blue jeans, and a tight black shirt. It appeared to be more comfort, and less strategic. He also adorned a name tag, his said 'Wolverine.'

"Sabertooth," The Colonel called eying the house curiously. "What do you get from this place?" He questioned attaching his own gun holsters around his waist.

Sabertooth sniffed the air and growled, the hair on the back on his neck standing up. "It smells like death."

"James?"He asked the black haired man with the name tag 'Wolverine'.

He repeated what Sabertooth had already stated, "Yep, smells like death alright."

The Colonel nodded. "Alright, step lively men, and remember, this boy is extremely dangerous. Approach with extreme caution. We do not know what this boy is capable of," He stated opening the front gate and heading into the yard.

The grass was brown and dead from the summer heat and the neglect. There was no movement in the house, just the stench of death rolling off of it in waves. Although, from this distance, it was undetectable by human senses. James cringed at the overpowering smell. He was sure even the Colonel and Maverick could smell it by the time they reached the front door. The Colonel pushed on the front door and quietly opened it. He looked back at them and nodded. Maverick pulled his guns from their holsters, and Sabertooth lengthened his claws in preparation. James sighed and extended his own bone claws. They ripped out of his knuckles causing him to wince at the familiar pain. He quickly followed the other three men into the small suburban home.

The whole house was dark. All of the lights seemed to have been either destroyed, or disconnected. The smell seemed to intensify the minute that the Colonel had opened the front door. Sabertooth sniffed the air, and smirked. James scowled at his comrade. The one named Maverick had disappeared up the curved step and onto the second floor of the dark house. This left James and Sabertooth alone with their human leader, the Colonel, William Stryker.

A loud yell, and a crash attracted the three men's attention. A gunshot rang out through the silence of the house followed by another bang. James looked at Sabertooth, and the two men quickly ran up the step, Stryker close on their heels. At the top of the stairs, Maverick was on his knees in the process of pushing himself up.

"Maverick, what happened?" Stryker asked from behind the two feral men.

"I found the boy," He stated brushing himself off. "He barricaded the one bedroom, and he was hiding out in the next one," He explained to his comrades pointing as he went. "He took off when I found him, I don't know where he is now."

Stryker nodded, "James, Victor, search the boy's room, Maverick and I will attempt to investigate this room," He ordered starting towards the heavily barricaded door.

The two feral men nodded and headed into the room. The door was hanging on one hinge, whether it was like that when Maverick had opened the door was uncertain. To say that the room was a mess, would be putting it mildly. It was a pigsty. Garbage and clothes littered the floor, the curtains were ripped and torn to shreds, with the curtain rod barely hanging onto the wall. Glass littered the desk, as well as the floor around it. The mirror itself was cracked with almost all the glass missing. There were charred marks on the wall, as well as most of the furniture. There were spots on the floor where the carpet was burned, or worn through. Personal items also littered the already messy floor. The dresser in the corner had been knocked over, and the bed was on it's side, the bottom of it facing the door. It was easy to see that the mattress has been laid on the floor. Paper, and bits of other things covered the floor, and candle were placed around the room as a source of light. The only thing that seemed to be in order, was the bookshelf inside the open closet. All the books remained on the shelf, but showed obvious signs of wear and tear.

James shook his head at the sight of all the destruction. Victor just chuckled. "The Sex Pistols?" He said lifting an album cover up off of the floor.

"No one ever said that the kid has taste," James stated with a shrug. "The walls are burnt," He added sniffing the air. He shook his head as he stepped into the room. He spotted the broken lamp and wandered over to it. He picked it up and inspected the shattered object. The light bulb remained intact, however, a jagged hole in the top of the bulb exposed the inside. "Hmm, looks like this lamp exploded. Circuit overload," He stated placing the broken object back onto the floor.

"Same with the light switch," Victor responded poking at the melted plastic on the wall.

"What kind of powers does this kid have anyway?" James remarked unsure of what to make of the pointless destruction.

"Beats me Jimmy," His comrade replied moving on to inspect the overturned bed.

James sighed and walked over to the bookshelf inspecting the worn volumes with interest. It was obvious that they had been read more than once or twice. Some of their spines here barely holding together, others were charred in places, but otherwise, fine.

"Wolverine, Sabertooth, we made need your skills here," Stryker called from the hallway,.

The two men left the destruction and ventured into the hall. Their two comrades had managed to move the heavy furniture away from the door, but the door itself refused to budge. It appeared to have been reinforced on the other side, with many locks, or wooden boards. James nodded and unsheathed his bone claws, as Sabertooth extended his own. The two instantaneously began scratching at the door with intensity. It did not take long for the wood to be weak enough for James to kick a whole through the center of the door. He peered in, and sure enough, the door had about eight different locks on it. The window was open, letting the light spill in from the backyard. He quickly unlocked all the locks and forcing it open.

Once it was open, the smell that was omnipresent throughout the whole house hit them at full force. Decaying flesh, however, there was no evidence of a dead body in their immediate line of sight.

"Where is that stench coming from?" Stryker asked as he covered his nose with his hand.

Victor obediently began to sniff the air. He followed the scent around the room before coming to a stop in front of the closet door. He ripped it open without a second thought. Almost immediately, two bodies fell out of the small cramped pace and fell into a crumpled heap on the floor with a sickening thud. It was obvious to the team of mutants that they were the source of the stench.

"So this is what the boy has been hiding," Stryker stated walking over to the two bodies. "A man, and a woman. I assume that these are the boys missing parents," He added putting on some clear latex gloves, and squatting down beside the bodies.

James sauntered over as well and squatted down next to their commander. His eyes traveled over the woman's body, trying to calculate a possible cause of death. The black blistered hole in her left arm was the only indication of any kind of injury. The man however, was not so difficult to figure out. Third degree burns littered the exposed skin of his face, head, and hands. It was apparent that he had been re-dressed after his death as well.

Victor reached out and ran his clawed fingers across the blistered hole on the woman's arm. "She was electrocuted," He stated bluntly.

"She definitely looks better than he does," Maverick remarked rolling the man over onto his stomach using his foot. There was no way he was going to touch the body if he didn't have to.

"What kind of powers does this kid have Stryker? What aren't you telling us?" James questioned with a growl sensing his commander's ulterior motives.

Stryker glared at his underling. "Destiny told me hat he could psionically create, and control the elements of earth, air, fire, water, and electricity. She said that he also has super strength as well, and some minor healing capabilities," He explained rising back to up into a standing position. "This explains the couple's painful deaths quite nicely," Stryker finished carefully taking the gloves off of his fingers.

"And you trust everything Irene says?" James remarked raising an eyebrow. He wasn't quite sure their new member was as reliable as Stryker had wanted to believe.

"She hasn't steered me wrong yet Wovlerine. She already told me that something like this was going to happen. Her visions are proving to be very useful to me as of late. They are always extremely accurate in my opinion," Stryker continued narrowing his eyes at the feral man.

"What's out course of action colonel?" Maverick asked wiping the sweat off of his brow with the back of his hand.

"Well, we find the boy and make him an offer that he cannot refuse," Stryker replied a smirk creeping onto his lips. "Wolverine, Sabertooth, split op and search the house. Maverick and I will deal with this mess," He commanded gesturing to the two bodies on the floor.

Maverick cursed under his breath and the two feral men grunted turning and leaving the bedroom. Victor snorted, "Split up," He growled, "I don't think either one of us can take this kid down, and he wants us to split up. Some strategist," He vented as they walked down the slightly curved stairs.

"He's still our boss Victor," James reminded his comrade as the settled down onto the ground floor of the small house. "Is your usually cocky self breaking down in fear of this kid?" He asked teasingly as he walked into the kitchen with Victor on his heels.

Victor chuckled, "Me? Scared of a kid? Not on your life Howlett," He replied with a smirk. "I just don't think that it's wise to underestimate our opponents."

James nodded in agreement. "I suppose that you're right," He voiced opening a door located to the right of the refrigerator. A washer and dryer were pushed up against the right wall, but just beyond that was a wooden staircase leading down into what appeared to be a basement.

"Bingo," Victor said quietly sliding past his team mate and into the small closet-like room. He sniffed the air, and chuckled darkly. "Figures a kid would hide in the basement," He mused.

"Watch yourself Victor," James called after his friend, stepping into the tiny room himself.

"Yeah, yeah, I got it," was the other man's response.

The silence that followed that statement was unnerving. After a few moments, James quietly walked down the stairs himself quietly cursing when the old wooden steps would creak under his feet. When he reached the bottom, he saw Victor standing in the middle of the room with his hands held loosely at his side with his eyes closed.

"Victor," He called quietly sniffing the air. "What is it?"

Victor turned to look at his comrade. "I just realized that I can't smell this kid. I know he is in here, but I can't smell hi," He explained his eyes narrowing.

James shook his head, "Then what as that at the top of the stairs?"

"I smelt fear, not the boy," Victor responded quickly not liking the fact that his comrade was stalling his actions. "I can hear him."

"So you can hear me?" A voice rang out through the spacious room. "Then why can't you find me then?" The voice called again. His voice seemed to bounce all over the place, making it a little difficult for James to pinpoint the boy's exact location.

Victor however, did not seem to have the same problem. He snarled, "I can now kid," He growled his eyes narrowing dangerously.

"Victor don't. He's antagonizing you," James warned him as Victor turned in the direction that the voice had called from.

Victor ignored him, and headed into the darkest part of the rather large basement. James silently cursed military housing as he lost sight of his comrade. There was no point in chasing after him. It was wiser for him to block off the boy's only exit, the stairs. Silence enveloped the room for a few moments, making the feral man even more tense. An electric charge sounded, and Victor went sailing past James and into the cement wall behind him. Victor snarled viciously and rose to his feet again almost instantly. Whatever the boy had hit him with had not been strong enough to knock the big guy down.

"Show your face kid! Come on, don't be such a coward," The feral man taunted moving to a crouched position on the cement flooring.

"Victor!" James warned again as he caught movement out of the corner of his eye.

The boy walked out of the shadows and into the two men's view. His shaggy black hair hung in front of his eyes, the white bits tucked behind his ears. It did not look clean at all. His clothes were wrinkled and dirty, and his eye had dark rings underneath them. The most noticeable thing about the teen was that his eyes were completely white. His hands rested at his sides. One of them was clenched, and you could see the small bolts of electricity traveling up and around the appendage.

"You want me?" He egged Victor on. "Come and get me, dog," He sprat narrowing his eyes at the older man.

Victor snarled and jumped, but the boy was a bit faster than him. He outstretched his hand, and a blast of electrical energy hit Victor again. He flew back again and cracked the cement walls with the force of the impact. The boy could sure pack a punch. However, Victor was not about to give up. He quickly ran towards the boy and barreled into him. Both fell hard onto the floor and slid back into the darkness behind them. James gaped at the two both in shock, and half in awe of the boy's strength and bravery. Victor scared most people. This Andrew however, seemed unaffected by Victor's attempts at intimidation. This definitely was new to him. The ground beneath them to shake violently, rocking the whole house can causing dust to fall from the dirty ceiling. This sudden change shocked both men. Victor jumped back in surprise allowing Andrew to get the upper hand and give him time to rise to his feet. He opened his left hand where a ball of fire now sat in his palm.

James put his hands up defensively at the sight of the small ball of flames. Even that small about could do devastating damage to the house, and his comrades. "Whoa. Just clam down, he just can't control himself sometimes," He tried to assure the teen coming in between his wayward brother, and the teenage boy.

"Stay back!" Andrew yelled. "I swear I'll light this place up! I swear!"

"Andrew," James began shooting a warning glance at Victor. Victor snorted, but remained where he was standing. "No one wants to hurt you. Just settle down and come with us," He said calmly. Between him and Victor, James was always the voice of reason, and the logical thinker.

Andrew shook his head rapidly. "No! I...I...just kill me please," He cried his eyes welling up with unshed tears. "I can't live like this," He confessed, as the tears began to run down his dirt stained cheeks.

"Like what?" Victor spat.

The tortured look on the teen's face made James look away unable to deal with the pain that was reflected within his eyes. "I can't live with what I have done! I killed my parents," He stated, the fireball in his hand disappearing as he spoke. "I...I...I killed them," He repeated his voice shaking with grief. He fell forward onto his knees, almost hyperventilating.

"It's ok Andrew," James assured him taking a few steps closer to him.

"No!" He roared is response. "It's not ok! I am a monster, and I don't deserve to live!" He tried his voice cracking slightly. The dam of emotion he had been building over the last few weeks was about to burst in a matter of seconds, and the boy couldn't take the overwhelming grief that seemed to consume him. "Please end it. I can't live my life knowing that anyone, and everyone I care about will meet the same fate," He spoke calmly, the conviction in his voice tempting the older man slightly.

"Just end the kid James, he's practically begging for it," Victor growled in annoyance. He knew the boy was weak, and this was just proving his point. There was no way the teen could survive in Team X.

"No!" He yelled at his team mate, his eyes ablaze with fury at his brother's lack of compassion. "We have our orders Sabertooth," James spat before turning back to the kneeling teen. "I know how you feel Andrew," He assured him unsheathing his claws from his knuckles for the boy to see. " You can learn to control your gifts. All I ask is that you settle down, and we can talk this all out rationally, without having to shed any blood here today," He reasoned resting a hand on the boy's shoulder.

Andrew looked up at the older man. He noted the sincerity in his eyes at the words he had just spoken. Andrew bit his bottom lip, and then sighed in defeat. He look down at the floor. "Fine, you win," He stated dejectedly. His hands fell back down to his side as he rose to his full height. "I'll come with you."

Victor smirked and patted James on the back. "Good job brother," He complimented.

James shrugged the older man's hand off. "No thanks to you," He replied bitterly, glaring at him. He placed a hand on Andrew's shoulder, even though the boy was about a foot taller than him, and carefully led him towards the dark staircase.

He did not fully trust the boy after his previous display, but somehow, he knew he was in no immediate danger. He led him up the stairs and to the ground level, and into the open, and very eager hands of Colonel William Stryker.


	4. Enter Raven

AN: Another chapter yay! This is where the actual story starts.

Disclaimer: I only own Andrew and Liz; all other characters belong to Marvel.

_**Not Every Story Has a Happy Ending**_

Chapter 3 Enter Raven

**1983, New York City, New York **

It was dark. The sun had set many hours ago, and the dark seedy underbelly of the city was beginning to emerge. The moist and almost sickening stench of dirt and grime that seemed to fill the city, even in the daylight hours, became even more pungent. It made the 'city that never sleeps' even more unbearable. With the terrible population, and almost unyielding criminal activity, it was a wonder why people lived there at all. The moans of desperate people begging to leave and find somewhere else to begin a new echoed against the high rise buildings and disappearing into the night not ever being hears. One such person was Andrew Darkholme.

Those five years ago, Andrew had talked over his future with Colonel William Stryker. The raven haired teen decided that death was not a very well thought out punishment for his crimes. Being Christian, he decided that the best way was to atone for his sines against God an his parents. In order to do this, Andrew joined up with Stryker's elite team of mutants known as Team X. Upon joining, he assumed a new alias, the Destructor. The only people to still call him by hid real name were his team mates Irene, who was also known as Destiny, and James, aka the Wolverine. They were as close to friends as he was ever going to get.

Yes, a lot had changed over the last five years of the young man's life. The twenty-two year old sat alone at the bar in a nightclub located in downtown New York. This was where their mission was supposedly to take place. Andrew couldn't help but find this fact to be very unlikely. He was sure Victor, aka Sabertooth, just wanted to check out some woman and maybe get some action at the same time.

The club was packed. However, it was not so full that he patrons were not able to move. The music was loud, pounding, and pulsing throughout the entire establishment. The people dancing to the unnecessary rhythm were sweating, and gyrating across the so called 'dance floor.' All it was, was a small tiled area in the middle of the club where the music was the loudest. The smell of sweat seemed to fill the club, and mix with permeating scent of alcohol. It was an almost unbearable stench, even to human senses. It was nearing eleven o'clock and the club staff were preparing 'the stage' for the exotic dancers and strippers that were soon to some on and make fools of themselves in their underwear and nudity.

"Andrew!" A feminine voice called loudly almost directly in his rather sensitive ears. He did not possess enhanced sense like some of his colleagues, but he definitely had above average senses. He cringed at the volume of the voice and turned to face it's source. Irene.

Irene was a rather pretty woman and petite. She was in her late thirties and her chocolate brown hair hung down past her narrow shoulders. Her roots showed a bit of gray, but that just added to her charm. Her blue eyes were a it too large for her face, and her lips were fairly thin. If she pulled them back into a tight line, you might not be able to tell if she had any lips at all. She was not very tall, but she held an air of confidence about her that made her seem at least a foot taller. She was also incredibly intelligent, and almost always had her nose stuck in a book. What Andrew liked most about Irene, were her soft blue eyes, and gentile smile. Also, if you confided in her, she told no one. It was something that set her apart from the other members of Team X. He always took what she had to say in great confidence. She was wise beyond her years.

Irene smiled and sat down n the vacant bar stool beside him. "Where are you? You seem so far away," She remarked resting her arms on the counter top. "I've been calling to you for five minutes. What's on your mind hun?" She asked as she crossed her legs.

Andrew took a sip of the drink that he had been nursing for the last tn minutes. He wasn't much of a drinker, but he did enjoy drinking himself into a depression every once in a while. "Nothing," He replied blandly as he placed the nearly empty glass back down onto the counter.

Irene rolled her eyes. That was always the answer he gave her. "You know Andrew, you can get some enjoyment out of life," She said before turning and ordering a drink for herself. "You're young, you should be having fun. Besides, all of your self loathing cannot be healthy," She finished taking her drink from the bartender.

Andrew scowled downing the rest of his drink in one gulp. "I don't think God would appreciate me accepting advice from a deist," He spat instantly regretting his words. He was not raise to be spiteful in any way.

Irene just shrugged the words off knowing that he truly did not mean them. "Andrew, let me be frank with you. I think if you just try to ease up, try and forget, try and live your life to the best you can, you will make your peace with the lord," She said with a soft smile. "We all make mistakes Andy."

He sighed, "If I do this, will you be happy?" He asked with no trace of emotion on his face.

Irene was silent for a few moments as she took a sip from her drink. "The question is, will you be able to look at yourself in the mirror tomorrow, and still look away before you can count backwards from ten?" She remarked raising an eyebrow at the younger man.

He shook his head in confusion. "Why must you speak in riddles. What does that even mean?"

She rolled her eyes again. "If you look in the mirror and count backwards from ten, and if you look away, it means that you can't even stand being in your own presence for that ten seconds," She explained taking another swig of her drink, polishing it off.

He sighed, "You know I will...I.."

She cut him off, "Just do this for me. For one night, loosen up and have some fun. I promise you, you won't regret it," She remarked. She smirked and tapped her finger against her temple. "I know, I've seen it."

Andrew couldn't help but chuckle. Irene tended to rely on her own foresight more than she should. The future was not set in stone. "Fine, but only once, and if you're wrong, you leave me alone from now on."

"Cross my heart and hope to die," She agreed placing one hand over her heart, and raising the other.

He shook his head rising from his seat, "Let's just finish our mission," He concluded stretching his somewhat cramped muscles. "Whatever it is."

Irene watched his back as he disappeared into the crowded nightclub. She smiled grabbing another drink before following his path through the seating bodies littering the room. She followed until she caught up with him. Andrew had found a new spot to occupy in the club. He was seated in one of the booths with one of their other team mates James. Irene rolled her eyes, Andrew was not going to listen to her advice at all. She sighed giving up her mission and sat down next to the gruff man they called Wolverine.

James nodded in her direction. "I can't find Victor anywhere," He remarked shaking his head. "Why are we even here anyway?" He asked drinking the beer from the pitcher that was set out of the table.

"We are here to find a mutant," Irene explained pulling her cigarette tin from the tight pockets of her jeans. She opened it and plucked a cigarette out and placing it between her lips. She shoved the tin back into her pocket with minimal effort. "Stryker is interested in her," She replied pulling her lighter out from her other pocket and lighting the end.

"Why does Stryker want this one?" Andrew groaned nearly slamming his head back into the wall with the force of the impact.

"She is a very talented shape-shifter," Was her reply. "She could be very useful to us. However, the problem is that she could be anyone in this room," She concluded taking a drag from her cigarette.

"So, do you have any idea who this shape-shifter is masquerading as now? You know, maybe to give us a hint?" Andrew asked running a hand through his unruly black hair.

"She could be anyone," Irene stated wrapping her arms around herself and rubbing her arms. It was quite a bit colder at this end of the club, "However, from my visions, her favorite form is that of a woman in her late twenties, or early thirties," She began taking another drag from the cigarette that dangled from her lips. "In this form, she had long red hair, and green eyes. But there is no guarantee that she is using that form tonight," She explained stealing Jame's drink, and taking a swig. The feral man glared at her. I haven't been able to see much past that," She concluded ashing her cigarette into the ashtray that sat in the center of the table.

"Well, at least it's something to go off of," James remarked glaring at Irene as he pulled his drink away from her. He wrapped his opposite arm around it guarding it from any thieves thinking of stealing the golden liquid. "It would be a lot easier if I knew her scent."

"Yeah well, I don't have the ability to see smells," She stated bitterly shifting her eyes over the crowds in an attempt to find the shifter that their small group was searching for.

Andrew stifled a laugh, "I don't think it's possible to 'see smells' Irene," He commented an amused smile creeping up onto his face.

"Shut up Andrew," She snapped at her younger team mate taking another drag for her nearly gone cigarette.

"Hey James," Jame's communicator beeped, with Victor's rugged voice emanating from the small metal object.

James looked around making sure that none of the club goers were paying attention to their small group. Irene looked at him intently stomping her cigarette out in the ashtray. "What is it?" He asked turning towards the covered window to his right.

"I think I found her," He replied. "I am going in."

James shot a worried glance at Irene. The clairvoyant shook her head briskly. "Victor do not approach. Wait for backup. Disengage!" He called into the communicator in hopes of stopping his comrades plan.

"Too late brother," was his short reply.

It was then they heard it. A loud metallic bang echoed throughout the club, as the back door was thrown open. The three friends looked at each other before leaping from their seats, and running towards that back door. It took a little bit of time to shove through the mass of people, but that just seemed to intensify the urgency of the moment.

When they reached the door, they noticed that it opened up into an alleyway. Dumpsters, and garbage cans filled the area making it a prime living area for the vermin of New York. Amongst the garbage and dumpsters, Victor stood opposite of a red haired woman. They assumed that this woman was the shape-shifter. Victor snarled at her, and lunged, tackling the small red head onto a pile of filled up garbage bags. She cried out in shock. He had not anticipated his attack. She thrashed around underneath him, kicking, and scratching at him in an attempt to get away from her feral assailant. Victor grabbed her wrists and easily pinned the small woman down. She cried out in fear and pain at this action. However, she continued to mercilessly kick her legs hoping that she would kick hard enough that he would loosen his grip so that she could escape his clutches.

"Get off me!" She cried. "Get off!" Che cried again when he did not cease his violent action. "Get off!" She called one last time her voice cracking and tears welling up in her artificially green eyes.

Andrew growled unable to stand the girl's unnecessary torture. It had only been seconds, but it felt as though it had been several minutes. His other comrades stood absolutely still. They were shocked by Victor's sudden aggressive behavior. Not that it was unusual for him, is that they had not seen her do anything in order to provoke the feral man. Andrew stormed forwards and grabbed the back of Victor's shirt in a vice like grip and pulled the feral man off of the frightened shifter. With a grunt, he threw the larger man into the wall of the alleyway several feet from where they had originally stood. With just that seemingly simple heave, the feral man went sailing into the brick wall of the alleyway. The force of his weight impacting with the wall caused the brick to crack in certain places leaving a small cloud of dust hanging in the moist air. The impact did not seem to affect Victor at all. He recovered quickly, and landed in a predatory crouch snarling at the younger man. Andrew's eyes narrowed and he glared at his comrade in malice. His eyes were on fire with the rage that was currently burning within his veins.

"Leave her alone, she's done nothing to you Creed," The twenty-two year old snarled through his tightly clenched teeth.

Victor growled lowering his crouch so that his torso was nearly touching the ground. "She's the one who attacked me," He snarled back.

"Victor, I am warning you. Stand down," Andrew stated firmly his iris' vanishing and his eyes turning completely white.

"I don't take orders from you kid," He spat back. "You don't scare me," He growled barring his pointed teeth.

Andrew's right hand began to spark dangerously. Electricity jumped between his outstretched fingers. His now snow white eyes narrowed at his older comrade. "I should," He stated coldly. A cold wind violently whipped down the alleyway, nearly knocking Irene and James over by the sheer force of it.

Victor roared and charged at the younger man. However, the feral man never reached him. The older man had barely taken two steps when Andrew's hand lurched forward and a blueish green bolt of electricity hit the feral man square in the chest. The bolt crackled through the air, and sent Victor flying backwards to the mouth of the alleyway. He crumpled to the ground, his body convulsing from the sudden surge of electricity traveling through him. However, this did not last very long. Almost as soon as it had begun, Victor was back up in his predatory crouch. The wind picked up and Andrew raised his hand again ready to launch another attack at a moments notice. Irene jumped in between the two quarreling team mates.

"Stop this now!" She demanded glaring between the two men. She look at Andrew, a scolding look on her thin features. "You're scaring her," She said quietly nodding to the red head located behind him.

With that said, his white eyes returned to their natural green hue. The harsh cold wind assaulting them returned to it's original form as a gentle breeze. He took a deep calming breath to ensure his control of his destructive abilities. He sighed and them turned to the girl behind him that he had saved from Victor's rage.

She was shaking. Whether it was from fear, or the cold wind that had been assaulting them was uncertain. She had her arms wrapped securely around herself, and were eyes were wide in what appeared to be shocked. Her red hair flowed gently in the small breeze that was present in the air. She looked at him with fear in those large, but noticeably artificial green eyes. He was surprised that she had not tried to escape back into the club while he and Victor had been quarreling. Victor growled again, but James quickly interceded not wanting to witness yet another aloha male fight for dominance between the two comrades.

Andrew looked down at the ground ashamed of his previous actions, and his lapse in self control. He would never admit it, but sometimes he relished in his powers, and the destruction he wielded. He thrived on it. Although, he would not allow that side to take full control of him. He could not afford to lose control of his powers again. Not after the accidental deaths of his parents five years earlier. However, Victor always managed to get under his skin and agitate his somewhat limited self control. He quickly pushed this feeling aside and turned back to the red haired shape-shifter. He took another deep breath to assure himself that he was totally in control, and held his hand out for her to shake. She stumbled back away from him almost tripping over the bag of garbage behind her. She was staring at his hand her eyes scanning over his fingers searching for signs of the electricity she had seen earlier.

Andrew frowned at her obvious display of fear. He shoved this negative feeling deep into the pit of his stomach. He did this quite often. "It's alright. I won't hurt you," He assured her refusing to drop his hand. He was determined to prove himself to this girl after his shameful display of anger. "My name is Andrew. What's yours?" He continued flashing a warm smile in her direction.

The girl looked between his hand and his face a few times before slowly reaching out and grasping the man's appendage. "Raven," She said after taking a shaky breath. She cleared her throat. "My name is Raven," She stated again, more firm this time.

Andrew's smile broadened and he gently released her hand. This was definitely the shape-shifter that their team had been searching for, since Stryker had sent them on this man-hunt. "Well Raven, is this your true form?" He asked curiously.

"No," She replied shaking her head. She was a bit leery of this small group. However, she could tell that they were fellow mutants, and that helped her feel a bit more secure.

Irene smiled warmly at the red haired woman. "Would you mind showing us?" She asked hopefully, curious as to the younger girl's true appearance. She had seen the shifter take on many forms in her visions, but never her true form.

She nodded stiffly biting her bottom lip nervously. The four team mates watched as the red head disappear as her body shifted to that of a much younger woman. Her skin was very white, and her eyes were bright yellow. Her hair went down past her shoulders and was a blueish colour. Although she appeared to be no older than fifteen, Irene knew from her visions that she was eighteen. She was definitely an interesting sigh to behold in her true form.

Andrew wrapped an arm around her shoulder. "Well Raven, I think we have a thing or two to discuss," He said nodding to his team mates. Within seconds they were walking out of the dark alleyway, and into the evening streets of New York.

* * *

AN: I know that the chapters for this story aren't very long, I just don't want to keep filling it with lots of filler like I have a habit of doing to my other stories. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this, and I hope to hear from you soon.


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